


We Are Romantics

by CircleUp



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2020-11-08 12:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/pseuds/CircleUp
Summary: Peter struggles to balance his life with his other life, and isn't sure any more which one's the primary.





	1. You Weren't Something Fleeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orange_Coyote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/gifts), [shadukiam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadukiam/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You weren't something fleeting in my life. And if only you were… if only.  
_ _—Shahrazad al-Khalij_

Peter needs a coffee fix.

He can't afford it. That's definitely a thing. But his coffee maker broke and he deserves a treat, damnit. He was up all night. He was up all _the night before_. Mysterio's been a thorn in his side off-and-on again for years but lately he's been stepping up his game, like he's trying to prove something. Add him on to New York's non-super criminal demographic, plus the couple of regulars like Rhino who can't seem to figure out that _no means no_, and Peter is pretty over it, honestly. He just wants to sleep like, twenty hours. Twenty two. Twenty seven. Consecutive ones, not catnaps. In lieu of that though, he'll take—

"Um, medium mocha," he says when it's his turn. "Extra whip, extra shot."

"Medium mocha," the barista says back brightly, entering it onto the screen. "And this is for…?"

"Peter," says Peter. The barista scrawls a name on the cup, takes the handful of change Peter had managed to make into the price of a coffee, and moves on to the next person's order. Two other baristas are fast at work on the ever-increasing line of morning drinks. It's pre-work, a Monday, and a fair foggy-morning. The line is expectedly out the door.

He moves to stand in the shuffle of people crowding the counter. Some people choose to stand right where the drinks come out even though their drinks aren't up yet, even though they ordered _after_ Peter did. Peter tries to avoid being like them and leaves a little room for people to come and grab their drinks and go.

The barista says, "Medium mocha for Pedro?"

Peter had been watching his cup's progression, so he knows it's him. He moves forward, startles to a stop, then resists rolling his eyes a little. It's a mistake, no reason to be irritated over it. "Thanks," he says, collecting the cup from the counter. PEDRO it says in a fancy, girly script that doesn't at all match the World's Manliest Barista (Baristo?) who'd penned it. Peter glances over and happens to meet his eyes, gets a bright smile back before the man's returned to taking orders. He'd tried not to stare before but it's hard not to now that he can do it unobtrusively; the man is bald and looks like he lost a fight with a McDonald's fryer. Peter wonders what happened.

The mocha's good. Next time, if there's a next time, he'll leave a tip.

* * *

There's a next time.

Peter finds a ten dollar bill and he honestly feels guilty about not tipping last time. It's not even a full week later that he's back in the same coffee shop, looking at the same barista who lights up with a grin the moment he walks in the door. It's afternoon and there isn't a line, though Peter also isn't the only one in the shop.

"Welcome back!" the barista smiles at him, which is a surprise that Peter admits to when he reaches the counter.

"I can't believe you remember me," Peter says, meaning it. The barista is wearing a nametag that says WADE, chalked on in the same handwriting as his cup.

"'Course I do. You've got those movie screen baby blues," Wade tells him. "Mocha again? Switching it up?"

"Holy cow, dude, your memory," Peter says, and Wade laughs, winks at him, which makes him continue, "I'm serious. I could never do customer service honestly. I'd forget your face if you came in every hour. Well maybe not—"

And oh fuck. Oh fuck shit fuck. Peter freezes, his smile dropping away, staring at Wade's scarred face with wide eyes, and he might have pulled off the unfinished _Maybe not your face_ unscathed if he hadn't frozen up, but he'd never been good at recovering socially without his mask.

Wade doesn't even bat an eye. "I know, I'm memorable."

Peter stuffs the whole ten dollars into the tip jar, which makes it a lot worse, really. They both stare at it, and then Wade suggests, since Peter is too busy waiting for a portal to swallow him, "Mocha then?"

"Please," Peter squeaks.

He doesn't look at Wade the whole time he's waiting for his drink, even though Wade really does seem unbothered by the whole thing. He's whistling as he froths the milk up, something tuneless and happy.

"Here you go, baby boy," Wade smiles as he lids the mocha and sets it down for him.

Peter takes it with a thanks and is utterly relieved when the door opens and another customer comes in to order, taking Wade's focus off of him.

He notices the writing on the cup when he's outside. PETEYPIE, it says, with a little heart over the letter I.

Wade _hadn't_ misheard it, and Peter doesn't know what to think after that.

* * *

Peter comes back. He practically has to now. He spent half the week thinking about that heart, and the other half thinking about how much he wanted to choke his past self out before he'd opened his mouth. He opens the door and Wade's there and it's kind of a relief.

There's a line this time so he doesn't hold it up, just orders his mocha (and he kind of wishes his regular drink wasn't a mocha but he doesn't want to change it now) with a smile since Wade takes his order like he hadn't put his foot in his mouth last time.

"Wanna hear a knock-knock joke?" Wade asks as he's writing Peter's name on the cup.

Peter had paid already and is stepping out of line to go wait, but stops to turn back. "Sure?"

"Okay," Wade says. "You start."

He waits with bright expectance. Peter's mind is a complete blank before he realizes that _this_ is the joke, and he laughs in surprise. Wade laughs too, face softened by it. He has the prettiest eyes. It's true that the rest of his face is a visceral experience all its own and one you really don't get over, but he's funny. Peter barely knows him and finds himself liking him all the same.

"Cute," Peter says, stepping away with another laugh.

The other barista announces, "Mocha for Pumpkin Pie," and Peter has to collect it with red cheeks. A few other patrons chuckle at him.

The glare he sends the innocent-looking Wade promises revenge.

* * *

Peter doesn't get revenge. Instead he spends way too much money getting coffees every couple of days, the absolute most he can afford. Wade's in every morning, apparently full time, and every time he gets a different name called out from his cup. PRETTY PETE, PEPPA PETE, PETER PETER PUMPKIN EATER, and once, the barista started to say, "Peter Piper—oh whatever, I'm not saying all this Wade, get a new hobby," and Peter collected a cup that read PETER PIPER PICKED A PECK OF PICKLED PEPPERS.

He's horrified and he loves it.

* * *

"Wow," says Wade, not smiling. Peter glances up and regrets it, because Wade's expression is completely serious. It occurs to Peter then that he's never seen the man without a smile. "Lose a fight to a door?"

It's said too lightly. Peter shakes his head, not really prepared to lie about it. He knows the shiner is a doozy, blooming over his cheek beautifully from a thwarted bank robbery the night before. It'll heal quickly, but for now it draws looks.

"I'm going on break," Wade announces, and his spot is taken over after a quick staff shuffle to accommodate it. Wade finishes Peter's unpaid mocha up and comes around the counter with it, steering him over to the corner to sit in two easy chairs.

Wade's big. Peter hadn't ever really appreciated this before, but he's all muscle, with the shoulders of a linebacker whose mother and grandmother and great grandmother were all also linebackers. He finds his mouth dry, but when Wade sits down with him, the expression he levels Peter with is soft.

"Peter," he murmurs. "You know who it was?"

He doesn't immediately answer. Wade says, light, "You know, I know we don't really know each other, but I like to think we're friends. So, I just want to put it out there that if you need a place to crash ever—I've got one."

Peter blinks. His cheeks redden as he realizes what exactly Wade thinks has happened.

"It isn't my boyfriend," he stammers out, which gets a sympathetic look in return.

Wade says, "Open offer, no explanation required," and then offers out his number.

Peter enters it into his phone.

* * *

_Wade: missed ya last week_  
_Wade: and this week_  
_Wade: everything ok?_

In the end, Peter's a coward.

_Wade: won't spam ya but this line's always open if you need anything_

He keeps one of the cups, which is stupid, but he also has to be realistic. He can't invite anyone into his life, not yet. He's not ready for that, as much as he wants to, not after Gwen. Not again.

_Wade: take care of yourself petey_

In the end, Peter's Spider-man.


	2. If Only You Were

When you're an immortal, technically speaking though Wade at this point really feels like he's tested that hypothesis enough to call it a working theory, you get bored a lot.

Wade is no exception.

He's done a lot of different things as a result, every variant of a job or volunteering or hobby or time waster you can think of, and though he always comes back to mercing in the end, his resume is actually quite diverse. In between the kill count, he's been a florist, and took guitar lessons at the local college, and got an online degree in IT (Wade thought he'd hate it because he hates computer users, but it turns out that hating them is an IT qualification), and walked dogs, and skied, and on one particularly memorable occasion, he was a barista.

Wade regretted that last one for months.

Even a year later, he sometimes has to actively not text the number the cute brunette he'd saved as Petey had given him. In that couple-month whirlwind, he'd left an impression on Wade's heart that he was unhappy to realize wasn't shared back. Maybe he'd come on too strong, but seeing that shiner had gotten Wade's blood boiling. He couldn't stand it.

But after, Petey never came back to the coffee shop. He never texted Wade back either. Wade hopes it was just personal, that nothing bad had happened to Petey and he'd just chosen to ghost Wade out of his life.

He hopes that.

Sometimes though, he hopes the opposite, that Petey was going to text but something happened, that it doesn't have anything to do with Wade.

Wade sometimes stares at the series of unanswered messages he left, and hates himself a little more.

* * *

Sometimes villains and heroes in New York have to team up for shared causes, which is why Petey finds himself with Deadpool of all people, trying to find the location of a mad chemist who's been using aerosol sprays to dissolve key structural supports around the city. A little bit of graffiti work here, an hour later, and a bridge is collapsing.

Petey gets sprayed right in the face.

Luckily he's wearing his mask, which he immediately rips off while Wade hacks up the booby-trap aimed head-level at anyone opening the warehouse office door.

There's nothing inside, the chemist having abandoned the building. Another dead-end.

Petey's backed into a corner and turned away, his brown hair a messy, sweaty fluff from hours in the mask.

Wade has to make himself not approach. He knows the value of privacy. He's not going to be the one to unmask Spidey. Still, his voice is worried. "Did it get you?"

"Just the mask, thank God. Ruined though. Crap," he adds, frustrated and stressed and at the start of adrenaline jitters. He doesn't want to think about how that would have gone if he hadn't been masked for it.

Wade doesn't even hesitate. He tears his own mask off and holds it out blindly, eyes closed.

"You can use mine. I got my eyes shut, Webs," he adds. "Promise I won't peek."

There's hesitation in Petey's voice. "What about your identity?"

"Ah it was gonna come out eventually. Big orgs already know."

He hears Petey turn around to face him, but instead of feeling the cloth plucked from his hand, Petey gasps.

"Wade?!"

The name is said shocked enough that Wade's eyes fly open, and he's staring at the young man from the coffee shop, the one whose number's in his phone.

Petey predictably is immediately annoyed. "I thought you were a barista!"

He's so outraged by the idea that Deadpool had masqueraded as a coffee shop employee for a couple months that Wade can't help but start to laugh.

Petey crosses his arms over his chest, glaring. If he was a cat he'd be all floofed up.

"Sometimes I moonlight. Fun to try new things?"

Wade's grinning ear-to-ear. He can't help it. This is a relief and explains honestly everything about Petey's sudden silence. He hadn't wanted to invite anyone into his other life. Wade understands that. He offers out his mask again and Petey snatches it up.

"This isn't funny. Were you stalking me?"

Wade sobers immediately. "No, Webs. Honest. I take other jobs sometimes if I'm bored. That's God's honest truth."

Petey finally seems to accept this and yanks on the new mask, still a little prickly over the shock.

"Promise I wasn't tryin' to trick ya," Wade tells him. "I literally had no idea who you were."

"You better not tell," Petey warns him, the threat half-hearted. They both know he can't do anything about it if Wade wanted to.

Wade says, as seriously as he's ever said anything, "I won't."

* * *

It starts off with something small.

Namely, Wade goosing Petey's butt.

"Stop that!" Spider-man whips around to glare at him and Wade puts on the most innocent expression his mask can muster.

"Stop what?"

Petey's exasperated. "Pinching me!"

"Musta been a bug," Wade says wisely, reaching to pinch Petey's spandex-clad butt again while he's looking. Petey smacks his hand, scowling behind the red and blue of his own mask.

"You are a walking sexual harassment suit!"

"That's why I freelance," Wade says, bright. "No HR."

"Oh my God. Just keep your hands to yourself," Petey mutters. "Why'd I even agree to this?"

"You wanted to show me the ropes! Teach me everything in that big brain of yours." The mercenary is skipping along beside him, absolutely ridiculous.

"No. I want something to throw at this monster if we find it. A meat shield," Petey cuts in, which doesn't dampen Wade's happiness at all. If anything it makes it worse, which in retrospect is obvious. Wade thrives on any form of attention, like adding gasoline to a fire.

"I'll be your meat shield any day of the week, baby boy," Wade says, delighted. Petey has to squint at him because lately, the mercenary has been putting innuendos into sentences that have no right being sexy, but this doesn't seem like it's one of those times.

"I'm not actually gonna get you killed, Wade," he sighs.

Wade softens instantly to the mood. "I know, Spidey. Dunno why, but I know."

* * *

Wade kisses him on the cheek impulsively.

It's a sudden, happy thing. They're on the edge of a building eating burgers with their masks half up, and looking down at the city, legs dangling into the long drop below. Their team-ups have been happening more and more often over the last four months, and though Wade has never tried texting Petey's number again, he meets up with him other ways. They stop muggings and carjackings and bank robberies, and they get late night meals and talk.

Wade figures Petey's just happy to have someone to share the experience with. Petey's so obviously lonely, balancing his regular life with this secret one, and as far as Wade can tell, he's the only one who's seen a glimpse of both. He's happy to be the shoulder for him to metaphorically cry on, though he's definitely never seen Petey cry. He'll settle for that absolutely, and if that's all he ever gets, Wade will (not) die happy.

Petey's staring at him open-mouthed. He'd just been telling Wade about how he had a job lined up at Stark Industries when he graduated college at the end of the year, and was nervous but thrilled, unable to believe that anything so prestigious wanted him. Wade couldn't help himself, nudging a warm shoulder into Peter's and twisting to press a smiling kiss against his cheek.

"You kissed me," Petey says as if he isn't entirely sure it happened. He brings a hand up to his cheek to brush his gloved fingers against the spot.

"Sure did. I'm happy for ya," Wade tells him honestly.

Petey's eyes narrow in suspicion but he can't seem to find the ulterior motive. "That's weird," he decides. He crumples up the burger wrapper. 

"I'm a weird guy, baby boy," Wade tells him. He crumples up his trash too, and tosses it over the ledge. Peter squawks in protest and the next hour is spent with Spider-man scowling as he supervises Deadpool cleaning trash up off of the street.

Wade catches him touching the kissed spot again later, when Petey thinks the mercenary isn't looking.

* * *

Wade wakes to a message pinging his phone.

_bored_, it says. It's from Petey.

His heart feels like a helium-filled balloon as he rolls onto his stomach, the phone on the pillow in front of him, to rapid-fire text back.

_Wade: want me 2 come over?  
Wade: got twister  
Wade: real fun big recommend_

_Petey: whyd u kiss me?_

He swallows, going serious even though Petey can't see it. Wade's never been one to beat around the bush though. He can text anything, something subtle or demurring or flirtatious. He doesn't though. What he texts is:

_Wade: I'm in love with you, Petey_

Wade goes twenty minutes with no reply, and opens up a game of Sudoku on his phone because he isn't going back to sleep now, before a message finally appears.

_Petey: come over  
Petey: no masks_

_Wade: on my way_

Wade gets out of bed, a smile on his face that's huge and unbidden and stupid that lasts the whole walk there, until he knocks on the door and is told to come in.

Wade opens it, aware that stepping through the door will be a change to his life that he can't predict.

He doesn't hesitate at all.

"Hey, Petey-pie," Wade says, and steps in.

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for spaceboundwitch for welcoming me to a Stony server (chapter one) and Ash (chapter two).


End file.
